


Into The Fade/The Warden's Nightmare

by Replica_Jester



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, NSFW, Nightmares, PTSD, Remembering Rape, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4996318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Replica_Jester/pseuds/Replica_Jester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cousland seduces Alistair after she deals with his demonic sister, but the Fade demons turn it around on her in attempt to keep her locked in.  NSFW, PTSD, Nightmares about being raped, but also a very nice fluffy scene and some giggles in the beginning. And some smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Fade/The Warden's Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> While I think it turned out good, I think it may possibly be a bit traumatic to those who are currently/have gone through the(misled) joys/struggles of false pregnancy and miscarriage. This is my warning!!!! You are free to read it, but I hope it doesn't bring up any unwelcome feelings for any of you. I DID, however, put a safe breaking point for if you want to read but don't want to read the mean parts. It's right after Wynne and Zevran meet up with Alistair and the Warden with an obvious break before anything mean starts happening.  
> I basically worked it around what Zevran says right before you fight the Sloth Demon. He says what happened to all the wood nymphs? Considering we first find him a sort of nightmare, and then he mentions a good dream, it appears that the Sloth Demon and the Desire Demon work to keep people there trapped in whatever dream they can, and if, say, a good dream fails to keep them tranquil, then they trap them in a nightmare. I used this for my Warden. She does seduce Alistair, but the demons turn it around on her.  
> Writing this made me laugh, and then get irritated, then aroused (Maker help me!!) and then dreamy and happy, and then finally I cried. While I was writing it. So! Here it is.

 She was so done with this place. Having to bounce from that infernal Darkspawn-ridden fortress, having to endure her insides being shrunk down with ato become a mouse just so she could crawl in those dusty little tunnels, just to end up somewhere else with no help on navigation, and then some! Admittedly, being able to walk through fire as the Burning Man was pretty fascinating. Not to mention the rock Golem and the doors in all the levels that could only be opened by hurling boulders; if only Shale could see her like this –  _Pigeons everywhere will be obliterated!_  Maker preserve her sanity! She was ready to give up and let the Fade have her by the time she even reached Wynne. Tess was already drained, and the Fade was a place for mages to wander, not rogues. What use was all this raw lyrium to her?

Wynne, the only mage of their party who had fallen victim to this retched place, couldn’t even tell this was the Fade.  _“_ _How dare you slander the memory of my fallen apprentices!”_  Tess had never been so eager to hit anyone before. And Zevran!  _Oh!_ That stupid, pleasure-seeking elf actually  _liked_ reliving the memory of testing his spinal flexibility on the stretcher! “ _What are_ you _doing here?_ ” When she’d told the demons, in disguise of elves, to stop torturing her friend, Zevran adamantly insisted he needed to prove his worth as a Crow.

 _What was the sodding point?!_ They  _wanted_  to stay!

The only reason she hadn’t thrown her daggers was in fear they’d disappear forever, because that’s what happened in the Fade, right? If something dies in the Fade, it ceases to exist in the real world. She couldn’t take that chance on her weapons. Or did that only work on people?

To make matters worse, she couldn’t find Alistair. He was the only one she wanted to find! She wouldn’t have even made it to the Circle Tower if it weren’t for him. But how many times had she gone through the burning lair, and the swamp-like island with all those mouse holes, or the infested darkspawn grounds with blood stains all over the floor, how many times had she gone through the mages labyrinth just to find herself back at the faded Circle mage Niall in tears, scorched and dirty and lost nearly all will to go on. And then she just happen to turn around to discover another shimmering rainbow that resembled the shimmer around little Fadewalker rune. She’d seen these things everywhere, but never connected the resemblance before.

She pulled a rune out of her purse and rubbed it. Flames exploded all around her.  _Ah, shite._ Wrong rune. The bony fingers of the Burning Man didn’t make it easy to pull out another rune, and even less efficient at rubbing it.  _“Dammit!”_  came out as a squeak.

“Er, do you need assistance?” Niall asked. She squeaked at him.

Now the runes were huge. She grabbed another one with her teeth. How ridiculous she must have looked, tiny and furry, with her teensy hands trying to hold the decorated pebble still enough so she could rub her little nose on it. “Ahhh!” she sighed. Maker! She sounded creepy! And not in the good, _creaky branch in the_ _screaming_ _wind with a werewolf howling in the distance_  way, either. Creepy like the sexually deprived squatters in the sewers below Kirkwall.

She felt herself breathe the same resonance as the shimmering…door? It was a door? A  _door?!_

 _BLOODY SODDING_ _RUT-STAINED MOTH-EATEN KNICKER-CHOMPERS OF THE MAKER’S BRIDE_ _’S_ _PRIVATE CLOTHES_ _!!!_

 _So all this time she had needed to become a Fadewalker in order to even_ see _the Spirit doors?_ There were dozens of these same shimmers in all the realms she’d already battled just to reach Wynne and Zevran!Would it even do any good to scream and kick something here? She tried anyway, but discovered she had no legs. She was drifting, like a sheet on the laundry line. Every time she “kicked” it looked instead like she was a dress twirling in rainbow shimmers from side to side.

“I’m afraid I don’t know that dance. But I can hum a tune if you like?” Niall offered.

“Sod it all.”  _Maker’s breath! Did her Spirit voice just hit on the dying Fade mage?_ She groaned, but that just sounded even more erotic.

Before Niall could trick her into saying anything else, she soared like a water-ballerina toward the hoaxer Spirit door. Even pushing on the door felt like she was displaying an act that should be isolated to consummation chambers, or at least a brothel.

The Spirit level was even worse. She was grateful she could see the blasted doors and –  _oh,_ _wonderful –_ fonts that gave her boosts to her stamina –  _hadn’t she needed some willpower ages ago?! -_ but she would have to go through all the other realms again just to hunt them down and see what else she missed.  Because of Alistair. Finding him was the only important thing now. But where in Andraste’s tomb was he? She allowed herself to transform into a golem again to knock down another door, only to have to shrink back into a mouse and then have to back into a Spirit being again to waltz her way across a room to another font, which pointlessly gave her boost of magical ability. She had to go back through the blasted Spirit door again, accidentally letting slip a rather sultry growl – that was supposed to sound irritated – as she passed Niall. The pedestal allowed her choose a realm again, so off she ventured to the Templar’s nightmare. That would be a place to find an ex-Templar, right? This Fadewalker shite was too much, though. She endured the brief disorientation that morphing to-and-from all these strange beings caused, just to run through the halls as quick as possible.

She ended up activating another four pedestals…or was it the same one four times? Maker, she was so lost! She wasn’t even sure what domain she was in when she finally came upon another…whatever this place was, the same kind of place she found Wynne and Zevran. She started down the hill from the pedestal and spied a small campfire, with a cook-pot on a stand over it. There was a red-haired woman, and –  _Alistair!_

She ran as fast as she could.

“Hey!” Alistair grinned at her in her advance. She threw her arms around him and held him with an iron grip. “I was just thinking about you!” he told her.

“Maker’s breath! I thought I’d never find you!” she gasped, trying to force back the pressure rising in her eyes. To never find him again would have ended her. To never feel his arms around her again would  surely fail her heart.

“You remember my sister Goldanna, right?” Alistair asked. He was too cheerful. Tess pulled back and blinked at him, and she withdrew her arms as she turned. It was Goldanna alright, with a goofy smile on her face.

 _Oh, Maker, really? This is the greatest desire of the man I sleep next to every night? He’ll kiss me and cuddle me and say I test his morality, but his greatest desire is being with his_ sister? This was not happening.

“I thought she kicked us out of her house? After we gave her our last fifteen sovereigns?” she asked.

“She did! Yes, but we’ve been having a nice little chat!” he was very enthusiastic about all this. “And I’ve just been spending the day with her and her children! There’s more of them around somewhere.” He gestured to two children nearby. “They’re a lot of fun!”

“You seem awfully…content…” Tess said.  _How am I going to convince him this isn’t real?_

“Is your friend staying for supper, dear brother?” the Goldanna impersonation asked.

“Oh, yes! Say you’ll stay! Maybe Goldanna will make her famous mincemeat pie! You will, won’t you?” he begged her.

“I –  _no_ , I can’t. We can’t stay, Alistair.”

“We?” he laughed. “Of course I’m staying! I live here now!”

_Oh, great. Just wonderful._

“Of course you do, brother. You can always live here!” Goldanna drawled. Alistair beamed at the impersonation of his sister.

“Alistair, these are… _demons_ ,” Tess told him.

“What?” he laughed. “Tess, you’re being silly! They’re children! You  _love_  children!”

“I don’t -” she sighed. “No, they’re not. They’re  _not_  people, they are demons. Don’t you remember anything?”

“What are you talking about? You’re acting really strangely.”

“ _Maker’s breath!_ Alistair, think  _hard._ ” Tess glared at him. She was losing the rest of her patience. He normally wasn’t daft with her.  

Alistair sighed. “All right, fine…” he reluctantly. “If it will make you happy.”

“Oh,  _now_  you’re worried about making me happy!” she retorted. He looked curiously at her, but soon faded off into thought.

“I…remember a tower…and mages…” he trailed off, squinting a little as he tried to piece it all together.

“Come, brother. Wash up for supper,” the Goldanna demon purred.

“You stay out of this!” Tesslyn snapped.

“No…the Circle,” Alistair said. “Yes, that’s right. We were trying to help the Circle…”

“Yes.  _Yes!_  We are still  _in_ the tower actually. This is just the fade. The sloth demon put us here, remember that?”

“No! He is ours!” Goldanna didn’t sound like Goldanna anymore. Goldanna lunged and took a swing with hands that ended in large claws.

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair gasped. He whipped out his shield and sword, and gasped again as the children all turned to the walking dead and were suddenly armed with bows. “You were right!” he cried out, taking on the skeletal demons.

“You owe me for this!” Tess growled, ducking Goldanna’s talons.  _Blast!_  This demon was tough!  _Why, because he’s the only one I really want back?_ _Damn you, demo_ _n!_ She was exhausted. She’d been fighting how long? Her arms weren’t swinging right anymore. It kept getting harder to dodge. She managed to get a single cut it, but she wasn’t even sure it broke skin, just the dress. Alistair was the one who pulled his wills together to end the battle. Tess fell to her hands and knees as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

“I…Goldanna?…” Alistair asked like a lost little boy.

“What did you say?” she snapped, pushing herself up.  She sheathed her daggers. She could practically see the cogs in his mind turning to try to find an explanation.

“This whole time…it wasn’t real? But it  _felt_  real.”

“All this time we’ve spent together, Alistair, and your  _sister_  is your greatest desire?!” She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She knew it wasn’t his fault, none of this Fade mess was his fault. But he was the poor fool who happened to be at the end of her nightmare, and she was insulted she wasn’t his fantasy. “Your  _sister?”_  she demanded.

“Tess, that’s not -” he sighed. “Maker, this whole thing is a mess!” he breathed, running his hands over his face. “You know I’ve never had any of my own family. I didn’t expect her to be so cold in Denerim, you know? I figured it would be…Of  _course_  I desire you, Tess.”

She went to him and pressed into him for a kiss. “Please show me?” She kissed him again, and he gave in to her lips. “You have no idea what I’ve been through just to find you. I just want to know that it was worth it! I didn’t ever want to come to find you with your -” she sighed and rested her head at his chin.  _Sister._ The word was like poison in her heart. The one woman who could steal her true love away.

“This is a dream, isn’t it? It’s not even real?” he asked, not holding her as tight as she wanted him to.

She froze, and her heart raced with ideas. He had never tried to slip under her clothes before, even when he knew the way he caressed her and the way he kissed her made her burn with yearning. He refused to touch her breasts, her bottom, her center, even her thigh most of the time. He also truly believed this was all a dream, which it was. She knew it was, of course, she was fully aware this was the Fade. They weren’t really there at all. If she could just keep him thinking like this… “No. Not real. Just a dream,” she said breathlessly.

She tugged at the straps of his armor; they came off with ridiculous ease.

“What are you doing?” he asked, though he didn’t physically protest her. She stood on her toes as she loosened his breastplate, and she kissed him roughly.

“This is just a dream. We can do whatever we want.” She lifted his hard armor over his head and dropped it behind him.

“You mean…?” he couldn’t finish.

“Yes. But it’s just a dream. It’s not real.” Her center was already flaming just from the thought of taking him in the Fade. She grabbed his mouth with hers again as she unfastened his belt. She kissed down his neck, over to his ear, and she gave a little suck as she groped the bulge in his pants. He let out a moan when she rubbed her hand against him. His smalls didn’t leave much stretching room, but she slyly moved his cock around, under the fabric until he peeked up over the top. She closed her teeth over the soft of his ear, fumbling her fingers with the laces of his pants. He was starting to rut into her, and the tip of his erection grazed her wrists with every thrust.

She pushed on his studded armor until it loosened around him, and she yanked it up over his head and arms, not forgetting to quickly rid him of his undershirt. She felt a rush of wet heat between her legs as she raked her fingers up his front. He was hard everywhere. She could feel the rolling hills of his abdominal muscles as his skin gave way to her hands.  He had only a few hairs on his chest, golden-red, but beneath lay home to pecs nearly solid as rock. She gave an involuntary whimper as his nipples hardened beneath her fingertips, and he leaned down to shove his mouth to hers. His hands grabbed her by the hips and pulled her against him. She had never been able to touch so much of him before. She moaned again as he filled her mouth with his tongue. She fumbled with the waist of his pants, and he even helped her push them down past his hips to free his cock.

Her breath caught in her throat as she reached to cradle him. He was  _long_ , pushing well up out of her hands side-by-side around him, and she couldn’t close her fingers around him.  _Maker! That big hands-big feet thing was right!_

She gave a yelp as he suddenly picked her up. He growled as he found her mouth, and her insides nearly exploded with want.  He threw himself down on top of her, and the feel of something soft and plush under her back surprised her. She took just a second to look around; a bed, four-poster, in a log cabin-style room, and a large window that opened with swaying curtains to a stunning view of a sparkling ocean. Burning candles cluttered the tops of a desk and a vanity and the edge of a stone bath – already filled with lilac-scented suds atop water, and rose petals scattered over everything, even around them on the quilt. Between the candles on the vanity was the rose he’d picked for her, in its own little vase.  _This was his dream for them? It was beautiful, it was perfect._

He drew her attention back to him by shoving his fingers up between her legs, and she gasped. She hadn’t even realized she was naked! Her breath kept catching in her throat, and he jerked his hips in to her. She had never seen this side of him, so carnal and raw. His entire scent was almost predatory, reeking of need, and she would give him as much as he desired. His teeth brushed her nipple as he suckled her breast, and his hand pushing against the sensitive cushion inside her sent her over the edge in a cry that sang out around them. He gave another growl as he pulled from her breast, her pink flesh lingering up in his teeth for a ways. He settled between her thighs without a word, just a hard kiss to her mouth. He pushed inside of her with a grunt, without even giving her time to adjust to his girth, and she whimpered with the burning that scratched the itch she’d kept hidden for so long. He thrust like they were running out of time, though she couldn’t even ask him to slow down. But her worries that he would expend himself too quick were soon forgotten. He drew disordered cries from her like that was his whole intention.

He got up on his knees and sat back, and he held her legs in front of his biceps. He gave her legs a little jerk to bring her hips up to angle her, and she watched with a broken sigh as he watched himself slide into her. He rocked slow, at least, compared to how he started out, just watching as their centers humbled together to make them one. She licked her middle finger and reached down to her clit, and he looked from her hand to her eyes, then back to her hand with a devious smirk on his face. He drove slow but hard, their skin meeting in claps. He kept his eyes on her hand as she circled herself. Her legs stuttered when she escalated, and with a bite to his bottom lip, he picked up the pace to make her walls crash around him even tighter. She gladly relinquished unto him. Her clit exploded like liquid fire, a bomb within her that gripped her whole body and made her mewl like a singing humpback while he threaded his way deep inside her.

Before she finished coming, he fell back over her, and his arms kept her legs parallel with the rest of her. He nearly pulled out, only to shove in to the hilt, and the feel of him nearly busting through her womb made her dizzy in ecstasy all over again. He swallowed her cries, and their tongues tripped over each other in a sloppy mess of crisp passion.  _Please let this be real!_  Maker, she couldn’t just wake up from this.  _Please don’t make me wake up!_ She had waited so long for him to scratch her, and it was better than what she had imagined from him. She gripped his bottom roughly, relishing the frantic friction as deep as she was carved. She almost didn’t recognize her own voice, loud, choppy with every thrust, screaming through the flood of delight that burst through her loins, expressing the gratitude of her entire body.

His bottom clenched tight as his groin stuttered, a fierce growl giving way to falsetto moans, and she actually felt him erupt inside of her. He let himself fall limp over her, and his lips pressed against the crook of her neck as they caught their breath. Ever so slowly, he released her legs and slid out of her, stealing his breath one last time and making her moan. The burn was incredible! The man she loved had left his mark inside of her, and she gladly relished the tingling that still vibrated through her walls and clit.

They laid there for the longest time, kissing, touching, tangling fingers in hair from on both ends. He told her he loved her and she cried through his kisses. How could this be so perfect? She was so lucky, or blessed. One of those two. Or both.

They soon got distracted and started making plans for a picnic on the beach just outside, and when Alistair told her to pick out a dress from the wardrobe, she obeyed, still melting into this paradise. He helped her to her feet, and the cool ocean breeze swirled about her body in a flush of relief. Alistair kissed her forehead and told her he’d ready the picnic basket. She watched him wander away from her, smiling to herself at the dimples in his buttocks, on both sides and up top.  _Maker, I am so lucky._ He met her eyes with a wink as he pulled on loose lounge pants, and she turned into the wardrobe with a blushing smile.

Simple dresses in her favorite colors hung like the order of a rainbow. She chose pale green, like the underside of a fresh, velvety leaf. Alistair loved that color. She sighed as she slipped it over her body; Par Vollen silk. Her husband was too good too her.

 _Husband?_  Where did  _that_ come from? She glanced back at Alistair. He was whistling to himself as he packed apples and slices of white cheese in the basket.

“Would you like -” He glanced over, and did a double-take. The love that emanated from his gaze weakened her knees, and he crossed the room to wrap her up in a kiss, lifting her in a twirl. “You are so beautiful, Tess. The Maker spoiled me indeed when He let me marry you.”

 _Marry?_  She let herself get drawn into another kiss, and his strong arms around her washed away the pang of uncertainty in her throat.  _Yes. Husband. MY husband._

The pang returned sharply, but way below her neck or chest, even stomach. It kicked again –  _right in the_ _holy cervix! Maker! What is this evil?_  - and Alistair pulled back from the kiss with a chuckle. “It seems he doesn’t like Mummy and Daddy caboodling,” he teased.

She searched his eyes. “He?”

“Or, you know, it may turn out to be a girl after all,” he shrugged. He kissed her, but pulled away quickly with a laugh. “Ow! Yes! Definitely a boy! He knows where to kick!”

She looked at profile in the mirror hanging inside the wardrobe. Her belly was round, swollen like a canon ball.  _Pregnant._   _Pregnant? She?_ She swallowed hard. This wasn’t…this couldn’t… _she_  was pregnant? Her eyes watered at her reflection.  _She was pregnant!_ _She was going to have a baby!_

Alistair gave another soft laugh and wrapped her up from behind with a kiss to her temple. “I knew I should have thrown that thing out. You realize you cry  _every_ time you look at yourself lately?”

“I’m -” she wiped her hands across her eyes. “ _Me,”_ was all she managed to get out.

“I know.” He pressed his lips to her face again. “I love you both so much.” His hands caressed the bump with care and devotion. “But we’ve still got a couple months left till he’s done cooking. Meanwhile, over  _here-_ ” he gently turned her away from the mirror and pointed to the ocean outside. “the sun is about to set. Let’s go attend to our cheese, and describe to our little Grey Warden everything he will soon start enjoying. And cheese had  _better_  be something he enjoys.”

Her chest swelled with emotion, and she let out a giddy giggle through another round of tears. She nodded at her husband, her wonderful husband, and he kissed over her tears before leading her by the hand out the door.

The sand had spilled over onto the deck. It was white, pure and untainted, and felt like rough silk between her toes. The breeze was sweet, lilac and rose blending with the salt from the ocean spray. She held her husband’s hand excitedly as they both strolled barefoot away from their perfect house toward a perfect, clear ocean.

“There they are!” a familiar voice yelled. “Tesslyn! Alistair!”

This heckle turned both their heads. An elf and an old woman with a tall, decorated walking stick trudged clumsily through the sand. “Ah! There you are! I – Holy Maker of Shartan.” The male elf’s eyes fell on Tess’ belly.

“Zevran? Wynne?” Tess was confused. It felt like it had been so long. Why would they come now to meet up? They couldn’t have sent a letter first? Why come to invade their perfect home?

“I take full credit for this, thank you,” Alistair said proudly, tickling his fingers over her belly.

 

* * *

 

Zevran laughed, though he seemed unsure. “I would expect no less, my friend! It’s remarkable she is so…” he trailed off, waving his hands in an effort to express what he couldn’t say.

“That she is so far along in such little time?” Wynne offered.

“What are you on about?” Alistair laughed. “What you two even doing here?”

“We came looking for  _her,_ and it turns out she found you for us! That is, if you’re really Alistair? Or, if she is really Tesslyn?” Zevran asked.

“What are you talking about? You’re acting awfully strangely.” And Tess froze. Where had she heard that before?

“Oh, like you don’t know!” Wynne scoffed. “Weren’t you the one who hysterically tried to get me to understand that this is the Fade?”

“The Fade?” Alistair’s face suddenly fell. “Oh, no…Tess…this is what you…Goldanna…” he broke off in a whisper, his eyes trailing to Tesslyn, who stood there still in expectant glory. Goldanna? Flashes of a strawberry-haired woman came to her mind, too. And anger. And then a kiss.  _Seduction_.

Seduction?  _Seduction_. _A bed that wasn’t there before._ A woman’s voice, not her own. Not Wynne. Goldanna? No. Someone else. 

“No.” Tess shook her head.  _A dress that wasn’t there before._ “No, that’s not possible. I’m – I think I’m just going to go read…or something…” She turned around and took a step away, and as Alistair’s fingers slipped from hers, another voice:  _A baby that wasn’t there before. A baby that can’t ever be there. “No!”_ she screamed. “You can’t make me give this up!” She dropped to her knees with eyes shut tight, and pressed hard over her ears. But the sound never ceased.

 _Not a baby. Not real. Not yours._ She screamed again, trying to drown out the voice.  _You’re never going to have a baby. You haven’t been good enough to deserve a baby. You’re a murderer,_ Loghain’s voice now, and also his face.  _Looking down, his face slopping your bosoms with his tongue, painting your nipples. You can still smell the rum he had that night,_ the woman’s voice returned, almost like she was trying to lure her in.  _He nearly falls over when he rips his small-clothes off._ No! Not this! Not him! _He doesn’t even try to coax his way in. Doesn’t even try to make sure you’re wet, doesn’t even care that it might hurt. And then – fire!_

A sob broke Tesslyn’s yell as the images of the dark-haired man braced himself over her.

 _Ripping into you with the force of a canon ball. Ripping through you like a canon ball ripping right through a tree! Splintering!_ A sharp jolt pierced her between the legs, ensuring another outcry.  _Taking your purity by force, as if it’s his right. He owns you. Every time he shoves his cock in, he owns you. His cock owns you. You’re nothing without his cock! You need him!_  She doubled over as it felt like someone punched her below her belly button.  _He loves your screams! He thinks you want him! He thinks you like it when he makes you bleed. He pounds into you like a battering ram and you just let him do it because you’re afraid the Prince might actually be gentle! You ask to be violated because you’re too stupid to see that the boy could make it all go away! He would love you and give you your happily ever after. He would never hurt you. But you’re so full of yourself that you beg to be torn and bloodied!_ No! Nononono! She screamed through the attack in her center.  _You’re so afraid that you might actually like what is kind and loving that you beg to be abused! And even when he has you tied to his bed and gagged, has the guards hold your legs, you still beg! You beg for him to keep fucking you like you’re worthless! Even when he orders the mage to pour the poison down! Burning, like acid! You feel it all inside, you feel it burn the entire inside of your womb to a crisp!_

A rush of hot liquid between her legs opened her eyes, and she screamed again. Blood, lots of blood, gushing from the rounded belly, which shrank significantly as more blood flowed.

_And then you let him have you again, still tied to his bed…_

* * *

 

 

“Oh, my head…” Zevran’s voice sounded as Alistair sat with a groan. “Was I drinking?”

“Is everyone still alive?” Wynne sounded hungover, too. Groggy. How long had they been out? Alistair rubbed his face, and he remembered Tess.  _Oh, Maker._ He and Tess had…been intimate. Extremely intimate…He looked at her still body. She had interrupted his dream of his sister, and she…seduced him. He had been inside of her,  _Holy shite!_

Tess woke with a gasp and shot straight up. “Oh, good, you’re back. You must have drank the same thing I did,” Zevran tried to joke. But Tesslyn didn’t answer the way any of them had expected. She curled into her knees and gave a sob that gave Alistair goosebumps.

“Oh, Tesslyn.” Wynne tried to put her arm around her, but Tess screamed and waved her arm so hard  it busted the mage’s top lip. Tess scooted back until her head bumped the edge of a table.

“Tess,” Alistair said, getting to one knee before standing.

“ _No! Stay away from me!”_ she shrieked, pressing herself back even further under the table. What in the world could have spooked her so bad? She wasn’t with them when they fought the Sloth Demon. And then he remembered: the baby. She had been pregnant. They had been married and living on a secluded beach and she was very pregnant…but she wasn’t capable of having children out here in the real world.

“Oh…the baby..” Zevran whispered.

 _Oh the baby_  indeed.


End file.
